


this tie leads me home to you

by xwannaflyx



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, tobirama plays with fire and then gets lucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25271221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwannaflyx/pseuds/xwannaflyx
Summary: There's nothing quite as humiliating as having his crush metaphysically tied to him by a cord of fate showing the two to be soulbonds. Especially when all rumors point to him being in love with your brother. Tobirama should know, it's his fault this happened.(Madara on the other hand, is quite pleased with this shenanigan and eager to use it to his advantage.)
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 11
Kudos: 543
Collections: MadaTobi Week 2020, Naruto Fantasy Week 2020





	this tie leads me home to you

**Author's Note:**

> written (late because of course it is) for Naruto Fantasy Week Day 1: Soul Bonds and MadaTobi Week 2: Magically Bonded
> 
> i did my best (and god why are they so bad at communicating and just confessing whenever i write these idiots) and i'm overall pleased with it. woot.

Tobirama stared down rather shocked at the thin thread of red circling his pinky all the way to where it stretched to the pinky of an also frozen Madara. “You have to be fucking kidding me,” he breathed, wiggling his pinky as if that would make the thread fade away. 

Madara let out a slow breath as he also wiggled his fingers. “Is this what you were working on for your research project?” he asked slowly, an expression of resignation replacing the shock. He brought his left hand up to his face, squinting down at the thread and Tobirama felt himself flinch when he felt the tug on his own. 

“It wasn’t supposed to do...” Tobirama paused and waved rather emphatically around to express the entirety of the situation. He ignored the strange expression that crossed Madara’s face at his movement. “I was just researching soul bonds,” he grumbled, standing from where he had fallen on the floor. 

“And you found them to be explosive?” Madara asked dryly, apparently making the choice to disregard the thread for now. He smoothly sheathed his sword and straightened carefully. “I don’t suppose I could request that you conduct explosive experiments in your lab instead in the castle?” His expression was wry as he swept one hand over his face tiredly.

“My wards are perfect,” Tobirama complained, offended. Madara fixed him with a disapproving look from the thread to the scorch marks currently burned into the walls. “I’ll scrub that,” Tobirama grumbled, staring at the walls. There was a long moment of silence as the two of them avoided each other’s gaze. Finally Tobirama mustered the courage to lift his eyes, “The experiment,” he began, voice weak.

“I’m sure considering there was an explosion there was something wrong,” Madara said quietly, his expression strange. 

Tobirama frowned, his pride fighting with his common sense. While what Madara offered was a very easy excuse, Tobirama was well aware that although the method he had chosen had been rather volatile there shouldn't have been anything theoretically wrong with the current resulting... conclusion. There was also a slight pang of hurt under all his offense. Madara seemed rather ready to accept that they, of course, were not tied with fate, regardless of whether it was platonic or romantic. “I suppose,” he finally said faintly. Technically that wasn’t correct, he had put entirely too much fire elemental strength into the spell. 

“Well,” Madara said slowly, staring down at the thin string which tugged at his senses but he couldn’t truly feel like a physical substance against his skin. “I suppose I need to file a report to your brother,” he grumbled, rubbing a calloused hand over his face. 

Tobirama frowned, imaging all the teasing and hysterical laughter their siblings would derail into when they heard the report of this. “I suppose you must,” he mumbled, scowling down at his finger. Madara only heaved another deep sigh; he never really seemed to be sighing like this unless the Senju were involved. 

-x-

“Izuna!” Tobirama snarled, shuddering in discomfort as Izuna for the millionth time waved his fingers through the cord. Although Madara tugging at the cord earlier had merely felt like a ticklish and almost coy brush against his senses, anyone else touching or going through the cord felt intrusive and discomforting. It rather felt like nails against a chalkboard but the nails were claws and the chalkboard was his spine. “What did I say!”

Madara only gave away his discomfort with the barest scrape of his knife against the plate. It wasn’t at levels of torture that he’d experienced during the war but it was pretty up there and plain uncomfortable due to how fundamental  _ wrong  _ it felt. “Izuna, the next time you do that I will tell the person you want least to know all the most embarrassing moments of your life,” Madara said rather coolly, his grip briefly tightening against his utensils.

Izuna frowned, squinting at his brother. “You don’t know who that is,” he challenged the tone far weaker than the words. Madara raised a single unimpressed eyebrow before turning back to his food. With a grumble, Izuna did the same, taking care to not even brush against the cord. 

Tobirama finally felt his tensed shoulders ease down slightly. “So this your soulbond?” Kawarama asked eagerly, leaning over his plate to squint curiously at the string. Tobirama’s shoulders immediately tensed back up.

“Tobirama was dabbling in soulbond research,” Madara responded dryly, neither an answer nor a rejection.

“I don’t dabble,” Tobirama grumbled into his plate. He continued to studiously avoid the far too wide, far too sparkly, far too eager stare of his older brother. 

“Oh so this is a success?” Itama asked, a sly smile crossing his features. Hashirama was almost vibrating with need to explode into something that was probably far too sentimental and stupid too. 

Tobirama firmly kept his gaze on his plate as he continued the rote motions of cutting, placing food in his mouth, and chewing. Madara glanced from Tobirama’s reticent form, Kawarama’s innocent form, and Itama’s (probably Hashirama too) devious form. He gave Izuna another warning glare as his mouth began to open; it clicked mutinously shut. “I don’t think successes tend to be heralded by explosions,” he said, once again a nonanswer. 

“I’m pretty sure the discovery of the explosion array was heralded by an explosion,” Itama pointed out, entirely too smug. 

“Pretty sure it wasn’t technically a success that led to the discovery of the explosion array,” Tobirama said a little too casually and a little too stringently avoiding anyone’s gaze. 

“Oh come on, Tobirama!” Hashirama finally exploded, bouncing in his seat. “Is this an accidental success? You discovered something about soulbonds? Is it a proper soulbond in realized form? Why can it go through objects without you noticing but it doesn’t go through people without you noticing? None of us have mind magic so you  _ have to tell us! _ ” 

Madara suddenly remembered that Hashirama was a huge fucking nerd and a romantic. He didn’t often remember he was a nerd because he was such a weirdo anyway and also the ruler of a country and therefore supposed to be dignified but Magyk damned he was such a nerd. And a romantic. One was far worse than the other. 

“And I just ate all my food. Good night,” Tobirama said, suddenly standing up with a coincidentally empty plate and an entirely too relieved expression on his face. 

“What are you hiding? Why can’t you answer those questions?” Izuna demanded, half rising and clearly willing to physically stop Tobirama from leaving. His expression looked rather like a shark that had smelt blood in the water. 

“It wasn’t a success because I overloaded the seal I had placed by adding too much fire elemental in the array,” Tobirama said stiffly, his expression strangely recalcitrant. He took a careful step away from his chair and toward the exit, his eyes wary on Izuna and Hashirama’s much too smug forms. “I don’t understand the intricacies of the cord as it is based on souls and I am not a god. However, it mostly likely cannot go through people without causing great discomfort for the soulbonded as it is still an expression of our souls and those that touch it are technically invading.” There was a long pause and he was significantly closer to the exit now. He eyed Hashirama’s shining eyes and Izuna’s shining teeth with wary resignation, “and it is an actual soulbond. I’m explosion prone, not incompetent.” With those last words, he swiftly turned and ran out of the dining hall.

“I fucking knew it!” Izuna and Hashirama screeched, jumping to their feet and their expressions triumphant. 

As they wiggled in what was probably some horrifying variation of a victory dance and Itama kept demanding an explanation as Kawarama tried to pull the two off the table, Madara remained silent. He remembered the way Tobirama’s cheeks had been flushed a soft pink, the way he had avoided everyone’s eyes. More than that, he remembered the soft flush of heat from the cord around his pinky, sending a coy trail of warmth to his chest. “Huh,” he mumbled, ignoring everyone’s festivities. A small smile crossed his face, something fond and something dangerous in his eyes. “Huh.”

-x-

One of the most humiliating factors of having confessed to being soulbonded to someone and then fleeing was the fact that sooner or later, the two needed to be close enough that there weren’t quite so many people walking through the string. However, Tobirama was stubborn to his own detriment and withstood quite a lot of people before the fiftieth or so person had a particularly dissonant soul that jangled so hard on his nerves that he threw up. So, thoroughly reluctant and quite willing to show his displeasure, he stomped from his lab where he had hidden away to the isolated corridor that shared a wall with Madara’s room. He settled comfortably against the wall, dragging out his book and calling forth a little extra light to read. 

“Are you seriously going to hide out in the corridor and avoid me?” Tobirama’s head snapped up, staring up. Madara, once he noticed that Tobirama was looking, carefully raised an eyebrow. “Never knew you to be a coward, Your Highness.”

Tobirama immediately scowled. Running off more impetuous anger than reason, he immediately picked up his books and stomped past Madara to slam into his room and settle down on one of his couches before burying his face back into his books. There was a long moment of silence before Madara also entered the room. Tobirama hunched his shoulders and attempted to hide behind the impenetrable wall of his knees and a measly textbook. 

“Not really what I had intended,” Madara mused, the words said to the ceiling and almost to himself. Tobirama carefully peeked past his book to look at Madara. The man remained leaning against his doorway, despite the fact that this was his bedroom. He met Tobirama’s eyes and regarded him silently for a long while. “Are you displeased with the soulbond,” he suddenly asked, his eyes nightmare-black and tone far too neutral to be anything other than serious. 

Tobirama felt his cheeks warm and was unable to prevent his eyes from falling back to his book. He said nothing, chewing his lip and trying to figure out how to voice his feelings. How to tell Madara about the warm connection of the bond, the way that his whole body has flushed with warmth and affection when the little cord had tied itself around his pinky. How to express that inexplicable glow of pride when he looked down at his pinky and saw how flush and red the cord was, how healthy and gentle and  _ right.  _ There weren’t words so he remained silent. 

“I see.” 

His head jerked up. There was something too final about those words, something decisive and wrong and there was a strange quake in his cord like something foundational had been shaken. “You don’t,” he blurted, keeping his eyes fixed on Madara’s pinky, reassuring himself that it was still carefully tied, and avoiding the all too piercing stare. 

“I’m aware you don’t like me but I’m not going to force someone based on—” Madara took a sudden step closer, his expression screwed up in disgust and Tobirama flinched back before he was aware of moving. Madara stilled again and took a careful step back, movements too casual to be anything other than deliberate. “You’re far too important and capable for me to...” he trailed off, his lips curling almost unpleasantly and eyes blank. 

Important. Was that all he was. Tobirama held his reactions with an iron fist and refused to flinch again. The presumptive heir until Hashirama was properly married and bonded with Mito, he was, of course, vitally important to the country. And Madara, for all his jokes and bluster and willingness to ignore formality with the Senju family, was still the Captain of the Guard and quite willing to stand against any dangers threatening the royal family. Madara, in all his informality, had always been proper and protective. He had been seeing more than there was. “I’m aware of the same.” His voice was faint; the words that were meant to be a declaration came out like a concession. He forced himself to meet Madara’s eyes which glowed blood-black in warning. “Everyone is very aware of how protective you are of the crown,” he retorted, teeth bared. 

The way that Madara’s jaw tightened before he forcibly loosened his stance showed the words had hit home. “You speak of age-old rumors, Your Highness.” 

Tobirama blinked furiously against the stinging in his eyes. He vaguely noticed the way Madara kept twitching the fingers of his left hand and focused on it. The rumors of Madara and Hashirama’s relationship had existed since before Madara’s appointment and even Hashirama’s crowning. Everyone wondered what laid at the depths of such devotion and Tobirama felt this conversation was answering that quite neatly. He brushed the thought away then frowned, distracting by the way Madara’s hand spasmed. Madara was never  _ not _ in control of his movements. “What are you doing?” he finally demanded, too curious to allow his worries to keep him from an answer. 

“You’re so stupid, Tobi,” Madara snapped, eyes glowing brilliant red in emotion. Tobirama flushed at the old, mocking nickname and the surprising lack of decorum. Hashirama had gone through a rather unfortunate phase of shortening everyone’s name and Madara only pulled that out to mock people. He hadn’t said the nickname since he had been appointed Captain, too obsessed with presentation with the new title under his belt. “You’re going to say all that nonsense when the cord has been shocking me this entire conversation?” he demanded, taking an almost threatening step closer. 

Tobirama refused to back down, bolting upright and taking a step forward himself. “I haven’t said anything that is false,” he snapped, wrapping up his defensiveness in self-righteous arrogance. 

“You said plenty that’s false, Your Highness,” Madara snapped back, rolling his eyes. The title was dropped dismissively, and Tobirama felt his spine stiffen further. “Hashirama is far too stupid to be my type.”

“Hashirama is—”

“—your brother. You should know better than to defend that claim.” Tobirama subsided into sulky silence. He had once watched Hashirama trip on nothing and spill an entire pitcher of water on the guest instead of welcoming them as was their practice. Somehow they had not yet ended up in a war. Probably because of Madara’s glaring form in the background. “And he’s like  _ my  _ brother and I helped him get Mito’s attention. You really should know better than to listen to rumors.”

Tobirama continued to scowl but he felt something in him settle. There was a part of him that coiled, smug and satisfied at the thought that Madara who was  _ his  _ had not looked at this other who was his greatest competition.

“Come on, Tobi,” Madara goaded, the nickname carrying old fondness. “Use that big brain of yours. I am plenty protective of the crown and am always around the crown. If it’s not Hashirama, who do you think it is?” He raised his left hand and shook his pinky, eyes unblinking on Tobirama’s face as the cord gently swayed, “Who do you think it is, stupid.”

The rumors were always crystal sharp in his memory but he remembered several unexplained incidents. The way Hashirama had apologized to that one delegate from Iwa even though _that_ delegate had said rather rude things about Tobirama; Tobirama had held his temper  _ barely  _ but he had heard the rustle of cloth and the rippling song of metal behind him. That one idiot that had won a fight against him then returned, limping, to apologize, eyes fixed behind him on what Tobirama had assumed was a glaring Hashirama. The constant reassurance of the whisper-soft steps half a step behind him, the same way he walked half a step behind Hashirama. “Me?” he whispered slowly, the word a question. 

Madara’s grin was so wide that his canines gleamed. 

“Me,” Tobirama repeated, the word a lot more decisive. He felt his own face break out in a smile and the cord fair vibrated with joy. “You didn’t say anything,” he pointed out, too joyful to be harsh but still a little shy. 

“Because Captains of the Guard always go around confessing to royalty,” Madara teased, rolling his eyes. Tobirama frowned and refused to call it a pout. “Your council would have torn me apart if your siblings didn’t kill me first.”

“They didn’t look like they were in the mood to kill you at dinner.” Tobirama remembered the glee on their faces and scowled. “They looked too cheerful,” he added, making a mental note to get revenge in some horribly embarrassing way in the future. 

Madara wiggled his pinky at him again. “A soulbond is different,” he pointed out. “Very proper, blessed by the gods, and definitely trumps any sort of political union.”

The purring smugness from the bond was overwhelming. It thrummed from his center all the way to his fingertips, the cord a strangely solid weight against his skin. “A union?” Tobirama teased. He blinked up at Madara through his lashes, all coy flirtation. 

Madara’s answering smile had far too many teeth and the bond squirmed in excitement. “Well a proper engagement for his royal highness, of course,” he teased right back, stepping entirely too close for propriety. “I would hate to scandalize the council.”

Tobirama remembered the giddy rush of warmth from the bond, the way meeting Madara’s eyes in that first moment had felt like a hammer blow of excitement and the clicking of a puzzle piece fitting in place. He took another step closer, pressing flush against Madara’s chest. “Of course not,” he agreed, inclining his head. When he met Madara’s dark gaze, his own glowed, “We mustn’t upset the council.” 

The warm arm that wrapped around his waist to pull him even closer and the kiss pressed against his lips informed Tobirama quite clearly what Madara thought of the bloody council. 


End file.
